|The bluebell woods of Harcourt Arboretum, Oxford.|
I've never waited so expectantly for spring until moving to England seven years ago. Long months of a dark winter build the expectation until by April, all you think about is spring. It's no great secret that British weather can be dire, and often a February day is no different than a day in June--just as cold or just as warm, just as rainy or just as sunny.
|"Flowers really do intoxicate me."|
It's as though I waited my entire life to be able to grow flowers in England, and to watch the weather through the eyes of a gardener. Now when spring arrives again, I feel myself opening up to the sun and the warmth of the day, just as much as the petals of a pansy, and an English spring day feels like coming home.